


Do you want to do the paperwork later?

by katajainen



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2018 [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ignores TLJ, M/M, No beta - provided as is, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 04:12:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13605270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katajainen/pseuds/katajainen
Summary: On the run from the First Order, Finn and Poe hide on the Outer Rim planet of Iobrion and stumble upon a local custom that surpasses even C-3PO's knowledge of 6 million forms of communication.





	Do you want to do the paperwork later?

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6 of the February Ficlet Challenge 2018, prompt: accidentally married.

The fire in the long pit in the middle of the house was burning so low as to be purely ornamental, but it put out a scent that was sweet with the sap of some tree native to the planet. And unexpected visitors or not, their hosts set a fine table, of fruit and game and bread twisted into fanciful shapes.

Poe did not recognize a word of the local language, but this far in the Outer Rim it was hardly a surprise. It was not a choice that had brought him and Finn to Iobrion, but with luck they could lay low here until their trail grew cold. As for the language barrier – that was where a protocol droid came in useful; especially one that was fluent in over 6 million forms of communication, including the language spoken in Sniac Frein on Iobrion.

So when their hosts, an elderly couple in charge of the family longhouse, the largest among its kind in the surrounding settlement, broke bread with each other with some air of ceremony, and C-3PO translated the phrase as ‘“mine and yours, in plenty and in poverty” – an idiomatic invitation to share a meal,’ Poe believed it implicitly.

It appeared Finn did too, since he took a knotted roll of bread from the basket in front of them, and offered it to Poe, imitating the gesture and words, with a far better pronunciation than Poe had expected, considering they had been all of six hours on-planet.

The seeds sprinkled over the crust crunched in his teeth as he bit into his share, and the bread itself was soft and surprisingly sweet. They had been so incredibly lucky once again, Poe thought to himself, lucky with Finn’s skill on the gunner’s seat, lucky getting through an asteroid field in mostly one piece, lucky in finding somewhere hospitable to rest and regroup. 

There was a polite electronic cough, and they both turned a curious eye towards the golden droid. ‘They’re asking how long have you been married. What should I reply?’

‘What?’ That was Finn, before Poe could get a word out.

‘Some misunderstanding, obviously. Wait a moment.’

Poe looked at Finn, who shrugged. It was not, after all, the first time people had made that particular assumption, and it should strike him as funny, to think that before they had made it to their first anniversary, they appeared to others like they had been together for years.

Fortunately C-3PO was quick with its interview. ‘It seems–’ and the droid did not sound apologetic as much as irritated– ‘that my data on cultures and customs on Ibrion might not have been comprehensive. The phrasing you used–’ it told Finn– ‘is traditionally reserved only for married couples in this region’s dialect, which explains the misunderstanding. I’ve now–’ The droid was interrupted by sharp metallic pinks when one of their hosts tapped insistently at its shoulder with a dark polished fingernail. ‘Now they ask,’ the droid translated slowly, ‘if you want to do the paperwork later, or if you’re the traditional sort.’

‘Paperwork? For using a married phrase when we’re not? Surely that’s–’

‘Please excuse me–’ the droid cut in– ‘that was apparently a jest. They say that traditionally a marriage could be conducted as simply as by breaking bread and speaking the words.’

‘So when I meant to blend in, I accidentally proposed marriage to you?’ Finn had every right to be amused, and it was not his fault that his smile still turned Poe’s knees to jelly.

‘The hazards of going native.’ But the attempted joke was left hanging in the air between them, because Finn was suddenly wearing his serious look, his strategy face.

‘I would,’ he said softly, ‘if you would.’

Mutely, Poe selected another bread roll in a mirror of Finn’s earlier gesture, offered it to him and spoke the words, probably mangling them beyond recognition. Finn held his gaze as he broke the bread and bit into it.

They could handle the paperwork tomorrow.


End file.
